Summary:After spending too damned long grading papers for her new class, Illyana ends up deciding to blow off some steam and poor Caden is brought along for the ride. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The nights at Xavier's are quiet once you slip past the midnight mark. The faculty and students having retired to the dormitorium wing, leaving the classrooms empty as well as the gymnasia that are used for the day to day. The only sounds that reach one in that distant wing of the manor are the sounds of the old house settling. Faint creaks, low wooden groans. Beyond the awareness of most.
Though here in the dance hall, the old open room with the perfect wooden floor, the silence takes on its own edge. The sound-proofing on the walls, the focus of the faint decor turned inwards is meant to encourage those inside to focus on the within. Slivers of moonlight illuminate the room, just enough to give the curtains an airy ethereal sheen to them.
And for now, Caden has no interest on turning on the lights. There is music, however. Quiet, classical, a solo piano playing at low volume upon the tilted phone that's left upon a small gym bag. He's instead enjoying the solitude and the quiet and the simple warm feeling of being up and moving albeit slowly for now.
Just a t-shirt is on his chest, white and sleeveless. A pair of black tights hug the contours of his lower body, with gaps for his feet. He leans sloooowly forward, one foot hooked over the barre and letting him stretch out his body, beginning the laborious process of loosening up.
Time. It can be a hateful thing, really. Especially when you're used to it moving at the pace you prefer. But on Earth? No. It marches to its own beat and while Illyana doesn't mention it to most people, it drives her a bit nuts. It means she's late some places, early others, and everyone expects you to march at the same pace.
Bah.
When Illyana was a student, it wasn't too bad, because she didn't jump in and out of Limbo. It was too dangerous with Belasco watching for her, so she lived at 'normal' time. But now that she can move between the realms with impunity, it's much more noticeable. And when you're teaching a class, and are expected to be somewhere on time? Maddening.
It's why Illyana was at the school tonight, though. Grading papers, of all things. It took forever, and she may never give another test in her life if this is the work that goes with it.
Finally done, she drops by Caden's room to see how he's settling in, but it's empty. That only involves a touch of extra work. Illyana knows Caden well enough to scry him without needing anything with a strong sympathetic link.
In the dark, the flare of light that comes with Illyana's stepping disks is like a beacon. Black leather and bad attitude, the blonde takes a moment to look around before she finally lets her gaze fall on the stretched-out Caden. Strolling his way, heedless of the soles of her boots on the dance floor she gives him her familiar smirk. "Kinda late for this, isn't it?"
The brilliant gleam of the light catches the window reflections and that is where Caden's gentle hazel eyes slip at first. His smile widens as he catches her there, a dark silhouette save for the brilliance of her blond hair. He turns his head to say over his shoulder, "I'm very very. Very very rusty. This way I can avoid people giving me a hard time."
He straightens up, leg still extended upon the metal bar, then he turns to face her as his opposite arm lifts up. The tight fabric hugs the contours of his legs, the taut lines of his thighs delineated and tensing as he stretches that arm up and over as he bends supply at the waist. Leaning far enough that she appears to be entirely sideways to his point of view, he grins to her, "Well, most people."
Those eyes close and he reeeeaches slowly, then unhooks his foot and turns away, swapping legs and turning his back to her for the moment. "Though really," He lifts his other leg and settles in, hands flat upon the bar and easing downward to stretch the back of his legs. "I'm just grabbing what free time I have."
Then leaning his head back he grins at her, "So hi."
Some might tease Caden for the dance background, but not likely any of the students at Xavier's. They're part of the PE program, so everyone gets stuck learning it. Well, some minded more than others. Like certain tall, gangly males.
Illyana is not inclined to join in, apparently, as she waves a hand and a chair teleports from off to the side to near Caden so she can sit down with her front-row seat to his stretching. Dropping down rather heavily, she stretches her legs out in front of her, one leg crossing over the other as she watches him through half-lidded eyes. It makes her look a bit sleepy, or not paying attention. It also makes the slide of her gaze as she follows his extensions less notable. "So now that you're back, what are you up to?"
His long leg lifts and eases off of the barre as he turns to face her, the t-shirt's collar hanging a little loose from the years. Probably one of the 'workout' shirts he's had for the last five years. There are even small holes where the fabric has worn away. But even though his garb might seem informal, she knows he's taken his dancing seriously. In the past at least.
Turning to face her, Caden rests his hand upon the barre then angles his heels against each other, knees bowed out. One hand curves elegantly toward his abdomen as he focuses his breathing and begins to bend at the knees, lowering smoothly and then rising as he speaks at the upward motion, breath eased out before. "I sent the information I could gain to your friend,"
Koa, most likely.
"Also have been helping Nick and Isis. Which…" He lowers again, the arm not on the bar sweeping slowly out as he dips down, then back inward as he rises. "Might take a good bit more doing. But other than that… trying to figure out my life." His lip twists.
Illyana Rasputina watches Caden quitely and then draws in a deep breath. She lets it out in a long sigh before a yawn threatens to eat her face and that seems to prompt her to stand up and pace a bit, eventually coming to a stop behind Caden as he moves up and down with such precision, leaning on the barre as she watches his back. "What's it like, looking down that long path of uncertainty?" It's asked lightly, as though perhaps she's teasing. Certainly her own life doesn't have quite so many choices.
His stance is dropped and he straightens to his full height, turning to look at her with a small wan smile. One arm supports him as he mirrors her posture, leaning against the barre and taking a deep breath.
"A little disconcerting, honestly. It feels like…" He lets that breath free, then lightly fans himself with his collar, pinching it with two fingers and just drawing it out and back a few times. "Like the world moved on without me."
He extends a hand towards hers, resting gently as he says, "Though with what you went through it feels like I'm complaining about… small problems. But the school…" Caden looks up towards the ceiling, then around. "Makes me kind of feel like one of those guys that still hangs out at his old high school? Trying to cling to the glory days? And I don't want to be that guy."
He grins at her and then straightens up again, retaking his stance and resting the other arm on the barre, starting to dip low into the plie once again.
Illyana Rasputina's mouth twists into that smirk again as he turns around so he's facing her. Clearly, he's not going to let her mess with him by lurking at his back.
When he says it seems like small problems, she shakes her head. "Everyone deals with their own crap in their own way. What's a big deal to some is nothing to someone else. Trying to match up someone's challenges or pain against another's like apples to apples is just dumb. My problems may have more far reaching consequences, but that doesn't make them any larger than anyone else's challenges. Comparatively." One thing Illyana's never done is dismissed another's pain as trivial because she's 'been through worse'. She's also had the time and support to develop tools to deal with her own particular brand of Hell. Everything is subjective.
Illyana is staring at Caden with a distant gaze, like she's looking through his chest instead of at it. With a blink, she refocuses and then lifts her gaze up to his face. "Any plans this weekend?"
Shaking his head he tells her with that same smile, "Nah." He starts to step away taking the few steps needed to move more towards the dance floor proper. Giving his back to her once again, perhaps not actually concerned about having her lurking there. "Unless I get some blueprints that Nick was sending my way. Then…" He shoots a mildly rueful look towards her, "We'll see."
Caden rolls his head left and right, grimacing at the faint crackle his neck makes as he loosens up. He kicks a little with his left leg, then the right, something still clearly lingering as he grimaces to himself then spreads his legs slowly. Just a gentle easing into a split with his back to her and the insides of his knees slowly settling upon the hard wooden floor.
"Then, I might have to actually break in to a records building. Only old prints are online. But might just have to go and take the risk." That said he leans forward and _presses_ his chest against the floor, the curve of his spine and shoulder-blades tensing as his dancer's physique flexes.
Then, over his shoulder, he asks, "Give me a hand?" Likely expecting her to help him push further against the floor, loosening up entirely.
He might notice in once of the mirrors that lines the walls around the room that she was already starting to move towards him as he started to lean forward. The tread of her heavy boots is loud in the quiet dark of the room as she comes up behind him, long hair slipping over her shoulders as her head tilts down to look at him. Then she's dropping down into a crouch, the leather she wears creaking in the quiet, and he feels her splayed hand, warm between his shoulder blades, with the occasional hard edge from the rings that decorate her fingers.
Slow, firm pressure is applied, and then she holds him there with her arm straight. Elbow locked. It would never be visible during the day, or with the lights on, but light kindles in her pale blue eyes, the soft glow dancing against her cheeks and throwing her features into sharp relief. Being behind him, if it weren't for the mirrors, Caden wouldn't notice even with only the moonlight pouring into the room.
He might feel the slither of something cold up his spine. The sense of a predator at his back.
The faint piano solo continues quietly in the background from his cellphone and when she touches his back she can feel the pace of his pulse. Low, steady, he's alway been something of in shape since she's known him. But this Caden… the one under her touch right now. His body is compact, and well formed, not an ounce of fat upon him. Lithe like a gymnast's but with a whipcord lean musculature that speaks to hard living in those months he had been gone.
For a time he focuses on the stretch, and his body is already rather warm to the touch. But then the piano trills upward, playing toward the final movements as the last few keys are allowed to linger. It's only when the music stops that he'll feel that faint chill. Feel that hint of the predator in the room. His brow knits and he turns his head to the side.
A sliver of the moonlight catches his features, lending them long shadows almost like a campfire smile in the dark. His lips curl as he asks, "Illyana?"
Illyana Rasputina is eerily still as Caden lays splayed out before her. When he starts to lean upwards to straighten, he meets some resistance as her arm stays straight. Then there's the slight brush along his back as her thumb sweeps over the soft, warm material. She can feel the beat of his heart like this. Her fingers curl inwards a bit and he feels the scrape of something too sharp to be just fingernails. More like claw tips, though they don't tear his shirt or the soft skin beneath.
There's a low thrumm that at first seems an odd choice for this piece of music but then it's more clear that it's not coming from Caden's phone, the low growl from the pretty blonde above him.
And then Caden speaks her name. It takes a moment, and he might need to repeat himself and then she blinks and looks up. Her softly glowing gaze catches his through one of the reflections and she draws a swift inhale though slightly parted lips, the tips of short fangs briefly visible and then she's rising up to her feet almost with a jerk, the warmth against his spine gone and then she turns away, giving him her back this time.
The pin pricks leave small holes in the old fabric of that t-shirt and when he felt them his brow furrowed. Goosebumps race up and down the curve of his spine at that sensation, his lips parting as a breath catches as if there had been the faintest sting, the subtlest hint of venom that raced through his veins and played at his thoughts.
He leaned back and turned slowly, just enough to catch the flash of fang, the gleam in her eyes in the night's reflection in one of those tall tall windows. She left him and he was almost instantly up on his feet with a whisper of fabric.
Turning to face her, her back to him now. Caden took a step. Another. Hand lifting to reach out toward her shoulder but hovering but a touch away. "Has the…"
She can hear him hesitate, his lips closing as he swallows. His brow is knit together with concern in his gentle hazel eyes. "Has the Dark Chylde become worse for you?" It's only then that he touches her shoulder, trying to provide the support… the friendship he always had in the past and failed to do so these last six months.
Illyana Rasputina gives herself a small shake, trying to keep it subtle as she pushes back those small manifestations. Her eyes loose that glow, and her even, white teeth loose that sharpness. Her fingernails ease back into the short-clipped, thin tippings to her hands that 'normal' people have.
Of course, having one's back to someone means less in a room full of mirrors.
As Caden speaks, her eyes close and she keeps her breathing slow. Even. When his hand finally lands on her shoulder, the tension sings through her body and her head turns to the side with a bit of a jerk before she goes still again, eyes still closed.
"Depends what you mean by 'worse'." The blonde's tone is light. Flippant. Very at odds with the tension he can feel under his hand. "Someone is targeting people I care about, that are— *Because* I care about them." She exhales a long breath through her nose. "That messes with my sense of balance." She's not going to admit to any sort of loss of control. Not even here, alone in the dark with a friend.
"Hey," Caden smiles very gently, his light blue eyes tinged with concern… sympathy. A step around her is taken as he moves to be in her line of sight, and then to catch her gaze. The corner of his mouth curls up a little, a sad smile as if trying to reach her. "I'll probably never be able to fully understand what you deal with, Yana."
His hand will draw her a little forward in the same moment he steps closer, just to take her in his arms. So very warm, and that faint thump of his heart can be felt against her even as she can feel the heat from his skin against hers. "Or what you go through."
He's tall enough that he can rest his chin upon the top of her head just by lifting his a little. And for a moment unless she pushes him away he'll hold her there in his embrace. "I'll be here for you, though. I'm sorry I wasn't before."
Then he draws back and meets her gaze, looking down into her eyes, "But it'll be just like the old days."
Personal space is an odd thing with Illyana, at least to those on the outside, looking in. Caden knows better than most that Illyana can feel rather strongly about being touched without permission. He was the one that got stuck dealing with the fourteen year old blonde raised by demons after another student did just that and she put them in the infirmary. Being able to go intangible, the staff figured Caden, in his junior year then, was the safest bet to mentor the younger student.
But at the same time, Illyana doesn't seem to recognize the boundaries of others personal space, especially if they're friends. You could even go so far as to say she's 'touchy'. She's also very relaxed about people in her personal space. If they're a close enough friend. The trick is knowing if you're on that list or not and if you want to take the chance.
Caden's been on that list for a long time. She's still tense as he pulls her closer and holds her, her hands coming to rest very lightly on his slim hips as he wraps her up in, well, him. When he pulls back to look down at her, she tilts her face up so her pale gaze that chills so many meets his hazel one. "That was a long time ago." She murmurs softly. Not just six months, but seven *years* for her.
His gaze searches hers, looking rapidly between those cold chill irises as he gives a nod and replies with an unsatisfying answer of, "Yeah." Though it's uttered with a weight of sentiment and regret that she can likely feel there.
Caden's known for a long time how she is, the boundaries, the barriers. What will earn a snarl or a snark. What seems to be tactics with her and what is often considered her true position. Actions often speak louder than words when they come from her, as she growls often. Though her bite is to be feared as well.
But right now, right here… if she wanted him away she would have made it known. And the thing that likely decides it for him, is when she rests her hands upon him. So that they can both be close.
"Is there anything I can do?" He bites the corner of his lip and then adds, "Though nothing with computers. I am… /so/ done staring at computers for a little while." His smile slips to a grin.
The question gets a short, sharp laugh. Like glass tinkling in the wind. There's really very little humor to the bitter sound. The light touch on his hips tightens over the thin material of his tights and she pushes him out to arm's reach. She doesn't herself step back. Doesn't give ground. Caden isn't likely to notice little things like that, but as he's alluded to, they've got very different backgrounds and he's had little need to learn the small social cues around the hellqueen.
"You can not tempt me with such open ended questions. Of course there are things you can do. That doesn't put them on the table." Illyana's touch falls away from him though her fingertips drag out the connection. She turns towards the windows where the curtains dance their slow waltz and moves that way, the moonlight coloring her in shades of grey. "It's almost as bad as asking me what I want." She glances over her shoulder at him and then smirks. "Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone, though."
Turning back around she makes a lifting motion with a hand and stepping disks open at their feet, teleporting them away.
Limbo. It's something that's a huge part of Illyana's life, but until she showed back up earlier this year, it wasn't somewhere she talked about much. Certainly not somewhere she took people or showed people. When she'd teleport people they'd catch only glimpses of the shattered, desolate wasteland before Illyana popped that back out on Earth and when Caden got back from Japan, Illyana found a vehicle so she wouldn't have to teleport him through her realm. Wouldn't have to show him this place. This reflection of herself.
They're in a large room that looks like it's in some ancient castle. Stone walls, windows that are just punched openings looking out to a blood-red sky. Torches set into the wall give a flickering, guttering light while tapestries cover the walls with moth-eaten edges and faded colors. It's best those colors are faded, the scenes portrayed within are gruesome and dark.
Several doors open off this room, a pair of large, iron-bound ones likely leading out into the castle proper while a single smaller one is slightly open and a bed is seen beyond. A large balcony juts out of an opening in one wall, showing the ground is hundreds of feet below, held at bay only by a low stone railing with a top wide enough to sit on.
The words she offered him before the summoning of those disk beneath them cause that gleam of confusion to flicker across his features. His soft blue eyes try to search her own. And then she is moving. Away. Hands sliding from her shoulders and not seeking to restrain her nor hold her back, though if he had the same insight into her thoughts as once he did he might very well do that thing.
No, he just watches and grants a nervous half-smile as if to assure her that he is at least with her in sentiment despite the look in his eyes. And then the magicks beneath their feet come to life.
Suddenly the world has changed and he is there once again. With her. Once again. The last time was in their shared youth, and it was a time of such terror and great effort to try and battle against the ills that plagued her. Only now they are there and she is queen and holds hand to the reins of state and soul.
The stone room dominates his view, even as now dark shadows hide the corners, aided by the fade and surge of torchlight. He turns to her and at the least she has not reverted to the Dark Chylde though he likely can still see the threat of her there upon the edges of his frend's features.
"Illyana," Her name, as if conjuring their old bond and their youth shared. "You're scaring me." Some might not tell her such for the power it might grant her over them. But Caden. He trusts her.
Illyana Rasputina chuckles softly, and at least it sounds a bit more like the Illyana he knows. Dry wit and sarcastic manner. "Dangerous thing to say out loud here." She says, laying a finger over her lips in a 'shhh' manner, though her eyes are more amusing than warning.
Moving back over towards Caden, she makes a gesture with one arm, as though swiping something off to the side. "It's Friday. It's late. I want to blow off steam." Eldritch fire crackles over Caden's worn shirt and tights as Illyana transforms them with a thought. Black leather pants, wickedly tight. They lace up the side from hem to waist with nothing beneath and leave a strip of much paler flesh visible for a good three inches on either side. Heavy soled boots. The black T-shirt comes with some leather straps across the chest that form something akin to a halter.
"It's still early enough in the City." She waves her other arm in the same fashion and Caden's hair sticks mostly up, with dark liner around his eyes and accessories in chain and spikes and silver are added. Illyana reaches out, hooking a finger in the half ring at the front of that arrangement of leather straps. She gives him one of those predatory grins of her as she drags him closer to her. "You wanted to dance, right?"
That goes a good way to mollify him as Illyana works her magic on him, casting him in the way she /wants/ to see him. And his features twist. Sardonic? Perhaps. Amused. Maybe. But there is something else there as he looks to her and tries to figure out what she's getting at.
No reflective surfaces for him to catch his own image. He has but to look down and see the dark and the gear and the gleams of metal as well as the paleness of flesh. But then another twisting motion from her has his hair thrust upwards and colours his features with the kohl she seeks, letting him look the perfect counterpart for her.
She snakes her finger through that ring and drags him closer to her, and she can /feel/ the rush of blood through him, the way his features darken and his breath draws a little more ragged. "Not… _exactly_ what I had in mind, Illy."
Though his eyes lower. This isn't some simple desire for dancing. This had some import. He could tell from those shared moments only a little while ago. Something preys upon her. And so he says, "But sure. If this is what you wish." For he is ever so tasked with fulfilling her wishes.
Illyana Rasputina's breath hisses through her teeth as he lowers his eyes and her hand clenches closed, jerking him that last inch close to her. There's a tension to her again, a quickness to her breath, but she doesn't hold herself with the still, tight control she did earlier.
A stepping disk flares at their feet, and then they are elsewhere. The dark, whispering presence of Limbo is left behind, but Caden might not find their new location that much more comforting.
The strong beat of the music is the first thing he'll notice. It throbs through the air and pulses beneath his feet in time with the flashing play of lighting that illuminates a DJ at the back of the space mixing the music. The scent of spices rides the air, beneath that alcohol and the underlying scent of bodies warm from exertion and the press of those about them.
It's a bit of heavy metal meets BDSM with some goth thrown in for fun. In other words Illyana, and tonight Caden, fit right in.
As the light flickers and reality churns, he keeps his eyes lowered. That hiss that comes from her might be enough to draw his gaze again but he simply rests his hands upon her hips as if seeking some purchase upon stability to keep himself connected to the here and now.
And the fool chooses her to anchor himself to.
His handsome jawline tenses. She can see the bulge of tendons as he grinds his teeth and then looks up. She can see how he forces the smile, though it would fool others. Not her. Never her. She can almost imagine him making that decision. That this might be what she needs. The freedom and the wild and the attempt at something approaching normalcy even though in that effort it is a club fit for bondage and trial.
Yet it's with that smile that doesn't reach those hazel eyes that he tells her, "Alright." Even as the music thunders heavily around them, the steady 'oontz-oontz' combined with the roar of angry guitars. "Then come dance with me."
His hand finds hers and he /grabs/ it and pulls her with him as he moves towards the dance floor. Dragging her along if he has to and actually making his way through the crowd with a strength that she might not have seen in him before.
Tension bleeds out of Illyana as they arrive. Her shoulders relax down and when Caden's hands come to rest on her hips he can feel the smooth flow of her movement as she shifts position and half-turns. Her hand relaxes, slipping free of the ring in the center of those leather straps, fingertips trailing down over his belly before finally coming to a rest at her side.
That doesn't stop her eyes from narrowing a bit as he forces that smile and sees the tension rise in *him*, as though it were transferred one to the other. Her lips part to say something, maybe to let him off the hook, and then he's grabbing hold of her and pulling her to the floor. Low, amused laughter follows after him as she lets him drag her offter.
The club is packed, and working through the crowd is just that. Bodies brush against them as Caden finds them a spot on the floor, and that sort of aura that Illyana has that gets people to give way for her helps them create a little pocket of space. One of Illyana's arms wraps around Caden's shoulders, and she rises up on her toes, her body leaning in to his so she can put her mouth near his ear so he can hear her over the music. He can feel the heat of her breath against his neck and something warm and wet skims the edge of his ear. "It's not ballet, Cadey-Cat."
It's not right the way lightning seems to shoot through him, or the way the sights and the smells alter everything into a strobe of pulse that jolts with the beat of the music. And when she draws back after her words given to him, loudly spoken though muffled by the music of that night, she can see the pebbled flesh along the curve of his neck and the way the almost invisible hair along his slightly bared shoulder stands on end.
There's no hiding him behind the clothes she gave him. No way he can be anything but what she has cast him to be in that moment. And he embraces it as she withdraws and meets her eyes. "Just try and keep up." He says loud enough for her to hear.
His smile edges more towards the genuine as he stands opposite her and bites the corner of his lip, listening to the beat of the music and starting to bob his head. Then his foot taps along, quickly bringing the sway of his hips with it. His nodding head starts to roll with the steady /toom-toom-toom-toom/ of the drums.
He twists around giving her his back as he starts to move in earnest, the leather hugging the contours of his body and the t-shirt's mesh exposing the lines of his dancer's physique. A shift of stance every beat, hands slipping in and out, meeting near his waist every other beat. Then the bridge hits and his feet shift smoothly, seeming to flow upon the floor as if it were made of ice and brush past each other, then turning around again to face her.
His eyes are distanced, unseeing though they come back when he meets her around, lowering himself to dance before her, one hand reaching back to catch him as if he were supplicating himself for her, and his hips shifting, lifting, twisting. Then rising as he regains himself…
To give her his back again perfectly as the song returns for the repeat of the bridge.
Eyes likely follow them now, as it's clear that he's dancing in her orbit, paying homage to her and moving sensually in some ways, but almost mechanical in others.
One someone lays done a challenge like that, well. Pale blue eyes watch as he works to get the flow of the music and she moves a bit like a mirror of him. Her head bobs, chin shifting sides with each nod and her lips curl up into that wicked sort of smile as his foot joins in, hers following. In time their hips start to move, and there's a serpentine twist as that brings the rest of her body into it.
As Caden starts to move around her, her arms raise upwards as her movements become more pronounced, twisting and swaying though her eyes stay on him. She ditched her jacket at some point, the tight leather top leaving her shoulders and arms bare, as well as a wide expanse of her midriff.
The tip of her tongue peeks out, sweeping her upper lip as he lowers himself and starts to rise and she steps in close enough there's no way he can do so without sliding up the line of her body.
As he regains his feet, turning around she's at his back. He can feel the heat of her there, and then the tease of skin against skin across his hips bared by the lacings in the pants. The slide forward, following the curve of his hips as a thumb teases the top edge of his waistband.
he chestnut haired youth with the shadowed eyes has ever channeled himself into dance. Had ever lost himself in it, and let himself lose his anxiety. It was a place in the world where he could let himself be and let the hesitation of inhibitions slip away. For when he's out there the eyes look to him and it doesn't matter what they think. The feeling of it, the charge of it, was all riotous and fed his sense of self even as he exulted in the freedom of movement.
Dancing with Illyana wasn't the same as those times she'd dare to invade his personal space. This was the ritual and her participation the magic made manifest.
So when he rises and steps close it becomes just another step of the dance as the leather of his pants slide along the fabric of her own. Letting her feel the heat of his body so close to hers, and when they are so terribly near the brush of his breath along her neck, her cheek, ends in him giving her a wicked smile of his own.
The t-shirt trails drawn taut over firmly defined flesh that threatens to seemingly slip free with just a bit more tension. And then he spins, turning his back to her as she slides forward and grabs his waist drawing him back against her. Where he leans over his shoulder and smiles to her.
A strong hand grasps her wrist and for a moment as the music swell she might feel him guiding he touch lower. Only for him to turn back and draw her along, fingers interlacing with her own until she lightly _thumps_ against his chest and he holds her there. His head above and slightly to the side of hers, and his hand upon her thigh drawing her back against him while his leg continues to pulse with the rhythm of the song.
Some people laugh at the move, one claps. He leans down and nuzzles the curve of her neck, taking in a deep breath and smelling the scent of her even as he whisper shouts into her ear, "You are being naughty, Illy."
As if he wasn't teasing her. A little.
This isn't a side of herself that Illyana has shared with many, because this is how she lets loose. Gives in just a bit to all of those pent up *wants* that the darkness in her soul craves, relaxing the deathgrip of control that keeps her friends safe.
Pain. Pleasure. Control and Chaos. It all dances in her pale blue eyes, the emptiness that most see revealed as hunger. Illyana's hand flexes beneath his as he starts that push down, nails scraping against his pants, and were they not leather…
Caden pulls her around, and she tilts her head to look up at him, though she does so through lowered lashes. That familiar smirk curves her lips, and as he leans in, she turns in towards him, her lips slipping against the curve of his cheek as her free hand slides up against the nape of his neck and into his hair where it closes into a fist, tugging at his dark hair. "Naughty? Naughty's for children." She says against his ear, a low sort of growling purr underlying her words.
She can feel the tension build in him, his hands upon her hips even as the rhythm slips away from him. The blaze of heat from the blood that rushes through him gives her a palpable burn to those lips as she brushes them along his cheek. Then she reaches up and grasps that handful of hair and tugs sharply as she dares to admonish him.
That jaw sets, obstinate at first as he turns his head away. She can hear him as he growls back at her, telling he sharply, "What is /wrong/ with you, Illyana?" Even as she seems to mold to his body when he turns and he can't fight the feeling drawn from him. He can try to hide it as the music continues to thunder around them. But she gets him to push his hand through her hair and almost grab a handful of her own as if in reprisal.
But his brown eyes find the blazing white and blue of her own as he says, "This isn't like you." Yet despite his protests as she might feel against the fabric of her pants, perhaps even if she lifted her leg just enough as she rises to whisper shout into his ear…
That he can't hide the effect she has upon him with how painted on those leather pants are, or the rather strong intensity she has gripped him with.
Illyana Rasputina's lips part, and her tongue licks out over the heat of his skin. Tasting. She smells of smoke and cloves, the rush of her blood heating her skin and making the smell stronger.
And then Caden asks what's wrong with her, his tone sharp and he can feel the sudden straightening of her spine and the tension that enters her body. Normally, she doesn't care what people think. Doesn't care what they say. But Caden is hers. Her friend. He *matters* in a way that others simply don't and so his words manage to cut at her.
When he wraps his hand in her golden locks and tugs, her lips skin back as the purring growl slides into a hiss and her eyes flash towards glowing white for a moment.
Letting his hair go, she pulls her arms in and then pushes at his chest, giving him a sharp shove to buy her some space. "Then you don't know me as well as you think."
Having bought that freedom from him, she eases a step back. Another. She bumps into one of the other dancers, a large man that turns to look down at the hellqueen and then shifts to put himself at her back, one of his arms curling around her waist as he pulls her into his dance while Illyana's gaze still rests on Caden.
Two steps stumbled away in the seething mass of humanity. The surge and flow of the people around them, the heady scent of cloves and herbs, and then the blaze of embarrassment. Anger. Jealousy? It all comes together in a melange of riotous assembly there in the depths of that bondage club as the neon lights flare and cast the features of her friend in that rainbow myriad of madness.
She is taken in the arms of that one. And yet their eyes still hold each other. His jaw sets, those emotions roiling through him having a silent battle all on their own behind his eyes and she can see the blame he hurls at her with a dagger-like gaze. Then his expression shifts and he closes that distance. A quick stride. Three steps.
The tall man has only a moment, two at most to protest as he turns around and starts to say something. But then in a blur of violence she has /never/ seen from Caden he grabs the man's arm, twists it sharply with a low resonant _crack_ that has his howl in pain lost to the noise of the music and the crowd even as he falls to the ground on his knees.
But he's not looking at him. He's looking at her, and _roughly_ grabs her and pulls her to him. There's no hesitation in that instant. No fear. One moment she had been taunting him with her eyes. And the next… he is kissing her.
Not a soft gentle thing. This is a thing that is all hunger and heat and want. It is a kiss that begins with lips parting, breath shared, tongues slithering wickedly together as he groans and pull her against his chest. Letting her taste and feel exactly what she's done to him. It's a kiss that goes on, wanton in its abandon. Only breaking long enough for him to tell her, still angry, still demanding… and still lustful. "Get us out of here."
As Illyana's new dance partner comes in behind her, her arm rests over his about her waist, and the other curls up and back, fingertips dragging a line along his shoulder and up his neck as she holds Caden's gaze. As she takes in the dark emotions that bubble to the surface in him before he throws them at her with his hazel gaze.
When he starts towards her, her lips start to curve in a sneering sort of smirk, parting to say something but he moves too quick, the snap of violence tearing the nameless man from her as he falls away and Caden grabs and drags her roughly too him for that kiss.
The taste of her, smoke and cloves, fills his senses and the growl that rises from her chest spills into his mouth as they share that rough kiss. The copper tang of blood joins it as he feels the prick of her short, sharp fangs. When he pulls back enough to make that demand though, she feels her hand close about his throat, strong enough to make his breath rasp and she pulls him down without pushing him away, dragging him back from her lips and that kiss.
There's a tint of red to her lips now, shiny and pinkish as though she just put on some lipgloss with the promise of sweetness. "You want to make *requests*, you do it on your knees." The growl in her tone emphasizes the the word. He doesn't get to make demands of her. At least, not here and now.
Copper, ozone, smoke, desire. It blurs together as he realizes it's his blood upon her lips and somehow that feeling, that taste of her, that moment. It is intoxicating. He is left with an ache that seems to wrack his entire body as he clenches his jaw. All of the brief moments of romance in his past, the desire for companionship. Love. It is so entirely different than this thing than this moment. This is carnal abandon drawn forth even as she growls to him.
His lips skin back from his teeth, as if baring them to her in defiance. And all the while the man on the dance floor grabs his wrist and rolls away, trying to get some distance as other dancers begin to realize what had happened. But Caden notices none of it. Instead he lifts a hand to the mesh of that leather shirt, the breathable fabric as he digs his hand into it and pulls it off sharply. At first it might seem like he tore it free, but the flicker of his silhouette might let her know he phased it free and threw it to the side. Baring his pale chest with the exquisitely toned musculature and the firm nubs upon his breast. The faint fur there is slick with sweat that glistens along the sensual curves of his abdomen and glisten ever downward.
It is perhaps symbolic, a sign of supplication even as he lowers himself down upon his knees as if they were dancing as they were a moment ago. His eyes ask of her to take, and to give.
While Illyana hasn't looked away from Caden, she's quite aware of the growing shift in the crowd as the sheep realize one of their own has been wounded and the small space around them starts to creep ever wider as whispers begin.
Pink-tinted lips part in a silent laugh as Caden pulls the shirt free and tosses it away, a wicked sort of delight dancing in those hungry eyes. Pulling the shirt free leaves him in just the leather harness across his upper body and her eyes slide lower, as though drawn by the sweat that slides over his pale skin.
As he places himself on his knees before her, her hold on his throat eases, his breathing not so labored, and her hand rises, brushing the backs of her fingers against his set jaw and his cheek. "Good boy." The words are purposefully mocking, egging him on. Teasing his control.
She doesn't make him ask again, though, her stepping disk appearing beneath them and whisking them off before the club's security can interfere in the game they're playing.
Which puts them back in Limbo, back in her sitting room, because Limbo is always on one end of those disks.